A Vow
by LauraBlade
Summary: A one shot for Episode 2 which takes place just after the tunnels. An injured D'Artagnan and some worried Musketeers.


A/N: It's been forever since I've written fan fiction, despite reading it at astronomical rates. This fandom somehow grabbed my muse and shook it till a story emerged so thank you BBC. On that note I own nothing and am grateful to be inspired by the show. Hope you enjoy.

**A Vow**.

Each breath was agony, a burning pain pulled from deep within only to spread on each in and exhale. He could feel the grind of bone as the ribs shifted with each breath or so it felt. D'Artagnan stood, swaying as he looked down at the body of Vadim. The pain was spreading and he was not sure how long he could remain standing. Black spots filled his vision and trying to stop the spread he wiped at his face only to abort the motion before it had even begun. The open wounds on his wrists meant that with the gentlest motion of his arms his sleeves would rub slowly and agonisingly, igniting an excruciating pain that shot up his arms. The Musketeers were not complaining about any injuries despite having been caught in the explosion as well, and he would not show weakness in front of them. He wanted to be one of them and if that meant using what felt like his last reserves of energy to remain standing then so be it. The steady beat of his pulse pounded through his skull filling his ears with the rhythm until it was all he could hear.  
"d'Artagnan?"

Athos frowned at the boy's lack of response. While he was young and impetuous he rarely ignored a direct order from one of the Musketeers. Porthos called his name again and he too frowned at the lack of response. Aramis stood from his crouched position next to Vadims body, his prayers said. A quick glance at Athos and Porthos showed their focus was directed at their young companion, who seemed to not be aware that he was the sole point of their focus. Aramis cursed softly under his breath as he too focused on DÁrtagnan and saw the state the boy was in.  
"Porthos, get the horses and be quick about it." Aramis ordered while striding towards DÁrtagnan.  
Athos glanced at Aramis concerned by the change in his demeanour and simply nodded to Porthos to do as Aramis had bid. He could see the boy was slightly pale but nothing to warrant the concern currently being shown by their brother.

Aramis knew without doubt that it was only sheer force of will that was keeping D'Artagnan standing. The boy was stubborn, especially when it came to ignoring the demands of his own body. He remembered all too well the state D'Artagnan had been in when they had arrived at the inn where his father had been murdered.  
He had all but collapsed when the proof of Athos' innocence had been found. How he had ridden for so long with his wounds and not shown any sign of the agony he had been in, Aramis still did not know. The paleness the boy had displayed at the time had not concerned Aramis too much simply due to the circumstances. Now however, he had learnt that he was worse than Athos and Porthos combined, he would never voice any injuries. He had only learnt of the boys injuries because he had seen him collapse at the inn. The broken ribs had been easy to diagnose but not trusting the boy's judgement he had given him a full examination. What he had found at the time had horrified him, to see a young man so littered with bruises and cuts and not yet a soldier. Being able to count his ribs and see how thin he actually was meant that things were far worse than he had believed. While indeed he was a young man he did not have a brother to keep an eye on him to ensure his safety and health, no one with whom he could let his guard down. The last of his family brutally murdered and his life thrown into turmoil, a whirl wind of action with no time for respite. It was no wonder that he looked the way he did.

Aramis had treated D'Artagnan's injuries and ensured that he ate before they had rushed back to Paris to save Athos. He vowed that he would keep an eye on him because without a doubt somebody needed to do so. They had not spoken of it since and D'Artagnan had made a full recovery.

"D'Artagnan!"

D'Artagnan's knees buckled and he felt himself collapsing forward only to have his descent slowed by the gentle hands of Aramis. It amazed D'Artagnan that a solider like Aramis could have such gentle hands; it seemed a shame to waste them on something like soldiering. A glance over Aramis' shoulder showed the concerned face of Athos and with a silent thought of where Porthos had gone D'Artagnan lost consciousnesses.

Athos felt his insides turn to ice as he watched Aramis catch D'Artagnan. He swore to himself that he would not allow himself to form an attachment to the young man but it seemed futile. The pain he had felt believing D'Artagnan dead had been proof enough but now watching him collapse the agony returned. He had been so glad to see him alive that he had failed to take stock of his injuries. Athos looked closely now and could see the blood matted in D'Artagnan's hair and running down the side of his face. His hands too were covered in blood, too much to have come from his blow to Vadim. Kneeling next to him, and with a gentle movement he exposed the raw and bloody wrists to his eyes.

"Christ." Porthos uttered as he saw the wounds on D'Artagnan's wrists.

Athos and Aramis both startled by the sudden return of Porthos, so focused on D'Artagnan that they had not heard his return.  
"Quickly Porthos, help me get D'Artagnan up. We need to see to his injuries immediately."  
Porthos gently lifted D'Artagnan, slightly startled by how little he actually weighed. Porthos glanced at Aramis and without a word spoken they agreed that D'Artagnan would ride with Athos. Athos climbed onto his horse and Porthos quickly but gently manoeuvred D'Artagnan into the arms of Athos and scrambled to his own horse.

Athos could feel the shuddered breaths of D'Artagnan and without a glance to see if the Musketeers were following road off. D'Artagnan would need to remain out of sight as he was still a wanted man for his escape with Vadim. Decision made he decided that the safest place to treat him would be within in his own home. The distance was a little further but the peace and quiet would be well worth it in the end. A head wound like D'Artagnan's would mean that he would be bedridden for some days to recover from such a blow. That was just the wounds that they could see, who knew what Vadim had done.

Aramis sent a silent prayer to the heavens in thanks for making D'Artagnan such a stubborn individual. It seemed that was the only reason that he could think of that he had not fallen before the explosion. The head wound had required sixteen stitches and considering the other lumps he had felt on his head D'Artagnan would have been feeling miserable the entire time. The Red Guard had obviously had their bit of fun while he had been detained judging by some of the older bruising. His wrists were a mess and careful bandaging would be the only way to keep infection at bay. They would need constant changing as the skin had all but been removed in places by D'Artagnan's frantic struggles. Keeping him nourished was the most important concern now. To recover he would need his strength, but the bruising on his throat meant swallowing would be difficult.  
The Musketeers had thought he was grandstanding when Vadim had mentioned that he should have strangled him when he had the chance, not believing he had actually tried. The bruising proved otherwise and when D'Artagnan awoke there were many gaps within his report that would need filling.  
Right now though Aramis had two very worried Musketeers to inform of D'Artagnan's condition. Exhaling slowly he prepared himself for the barrage of questions that awaited him on the other side of the door. Hands steady he opened the door and questions were fired.

A moan startled Athos awake. They had taken shifts to ensure that someone was with D'Artagnan at all times should he awaken. So far he had slept fitfully and had yet to fully awaken; only opening his eyes briefly and upon seeing one of the Musketeers closing them again. Two days had passed since the explosion and the death of Vadim.  
D'Artagnan moaned again and shifted restlessly on the bed. Athos sat forward but D'Artagnan's eyes did not open but he mewled in his sleep as if in pain. His younger brother used to make a similar noise in his sleep when he was plagued by nightmares. Athos had never been very good at letting his little brother fight off his own demons and loath as he was to admit it, the open wound his brother's passing had left was being filled by a certain Gascon. He gently brushed the stray hairs off his forehead, feeling for a temperature and hoping to sooth him. No fever, which was a good sign but his movements would not settle and a small whine of pain had his heart clinch in pain. Unable to stay and watch the young man suffer needlessly Athos stood up and removed his sword and boots. Easing D'Artagnan up he gently settled behind him, wrapping him in his arms.  
"Hush now, you are safe." He whispered gently and breathed a sigh of relief as D'Artagnan relaxed in his embrace

D'Artagnan burrowed into the warmth behind him and slowly focused on the murmuring he could hear taking place around him. Porthos and Aramis were there, the distinctive lilt to their voices easily recognisable. Porthos seemed greatly amused by something if his laughter was anything to go by and Aramis' amused tone responded in kind. The pain in his head kept him from opening his eyes but he felt strangely warm and content. Nothing would happen to him with them nearby and he could rest easy.  
The warmth of his pillow suddenly vibrated beneath him as the rich baritone of Athos' voice responded to whatever had the two Musketeers amused. He felt his pillow shift and the warmth of his pillow seemed to be leaving and D'Artagnan heard himself whine in unhappiness. The shifting stopped and the warmth returned. With the contented feeling returning D'Artagnan felt himself slip into slumber. Strangely confused as to why his pillow had moved but the pain keeping him from discovering the answer he slept deeply.

"You seem to make a rather outstanding pillow."Porthos joked.  
Athos merely raised an eyebrow in response and proceeded to ensure that D'Artagnan was better settled and was not aggravating his injuries.  
Aramis and Porthos exchanged amused looks before leaving the room and Porthos' booming laughter echoing up the stairwell as they exited the house.

D'Artagnan felt the throbbing of his head as he awoke. He felt like he was missing something but could not quite place what it was. Blinking slowly he was aware that it was night and a solitary candle burned within the room. Glancing around he noticed Athos sleeping uncomfortably in a chair next to his bedside and Aramis and Porthos sprawled on a love chair near the window. Hoping to see where he was exactly he shifted on the bed but could not contain the moan of pain the action caused.  
"D'Artagnan?"  
Athos questioned as he stood. D'Artagnan tried to respond but his throat was dry and felt raw from disuse.  
"Don't speak yet." Athos crossed the room kicking Aramis'feet and poured some water into a glass.  
Gently helping him sit up, and with a warning to take small sips he gave D'Artagnan the water.

"Where am I?"  
"My home. We felt it safest to bring you here while the issue of your warrant was dealt with."  
"Oh. What happened exactly?"  
"What do you remember?" Aramis asked as he elbowed Porthos awake and stood.  
"Vadim and the tunnels, umm being tied to the gunpowder, the explosion. Everything after that seems a bit of a blur."  
"Tied to the gunpowder?"Porthos bellowed.  
D'Artagnan winced as his head throbbed in agony from the sound. Aramis punched Porthos in the arm and made his way to his bedside.  
"We are missing most of the tale as we have yet to hear you tell us what happened with Vadim after we last saw you." Aramis murmured gently as he inspected his stitching and bandages.

D'Artagnan took a breath and told them all he could remember, warned not to leave any detail out for Treville wished to complete his reports. His memory seemed largely intact except for after the tunnels exploded around him, the duel with Vadim coming in bits and pieces but nothing clear or in focus. He slumped further onto the bed, exhausted from telling his story  
"Vadim is no longer with us, he did not survive the after effects of your duel. Though having seen and heard what he did I feel his death was rather merciful." Porthos muttered. Aramis nodded his head in agreement while Athos merely clinched his fists and strode to the window.

Relief swept through D'Artagnan upon discovering that Vadim was dead but that was quickly replaced by sorrow. He had seen Athos cross to the window abruptly and had felt shame fill him as he felt tears prick his eyes. Faking a yawn he turned his back to the room and tried to quell the tears. Aramis did not miss the emotions playing across their young friends face and with a hand guided Porthos out of the room and a subtle tilt of his head directed Athos' attention towards D'Artagnan.

Gently so as not to startle D'Artagnan, Athos placed a hand on his shoulder.  
"I know you are not sleeping."  
A quiet sniffle was the only response and a murmur of apologies.  
"You have no reason to apologise. You have suffered greatly and we have all wept with pain."  
A shudder swept through D'Artagnan as he tried to muffle his sobs. Athos frowned in confusion; surely D'Artagnan knew that they would not judge him for his tears. He was young and had been through an ordeal that most soldiers would not have handled so well.  
"You did well and your father would be proud."  
With that one sentence the dam burst and D'Artagnan could no longer hide his anguish. Grieving for his father and the pride in Athos' voice brought everything to the surface that he had been trying to suppress. Strong arms tugged him into the warmth of an embrace and there he released all his grief and fear until exhausted he slipped into slumber. Understanding that it was Athos who had kept the demons away while he had slept sent him into a deep, healing content with the feeling of belonging.

Gently lowering D'Artagnan to the bed Athos vowed that he would do all that he could to protect his brother. D'Artagnan slept on unaware of the silent vow taken by Athos and then by Aramis and Porthos as they sat down and toasted to their youngest brother.

" All for one, one for all."


End file.
